3Sum
by mcnasty-filth
Summary: Arthur doesn't want a threesome with anyone but Eames, who more or less gives him exactly what he asks for. Special guest appearance by another TH character. Explicit slash/PWP/language. Reviews welcomed.


Accompaniment:

Biggie Smalls ft. Busta Rhymes: The Ugliest

MF DOOM: Fancy Clown

Jaylib: The Red

9th Wonder: When I Met You

MF DOOM: Air

"Arthur, love, have you ever given serious thought to a threesome?"

Arthur's eyes snapped open and a flood of goosebumps appeared over his entire body. "Of course," he said, struggling to conceal his excitement over Eames' question. It was not easy, given that they were both completely naked and lying in the same bed.

"With who?"

Thoughts raced through Arthur's mind at the speed of light. The only scenario that he'd seriously considered was being ravished by two Eames, which was naturally the most unrealistic and unattainable type of threesome. _How should I answer this? _He wondered. Honesty was generally the best policy, and Eames would find a way to pry the truth out of him in a dream if he didn't get it now. "Well…I'm not really attracted to anyone on the team, so-"

"Not even Ariadne?" Eames interrupted, propping himself up on an elbow. "Even after that snog session on the Fischer job? Arthur, I am shocked!"

"It was a one-second peck on the lips!"

"Oooh, defensive!" Eames' eyes danced with mirth – he could never tire of teasing Arthur, who had since turned to face him. The irritation in his voice was belied by the beginnings of a smile.

"You're just jealous."

Eames rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "I'm, like, so totally not. God." Arthur gave him a playful shove, nearly sending him off the bed and onto the floor.

"Don't worry, I only have eyes for you. Why, who would you pick?"

"I dunno, Fischer looks pretty good when he's panicking. I bet he'd panic if we ambushed him." Eames laid back against the pillows, staring off into space and licking his lips in contemplation. Arthur felt a twinge of jealousy – he didn't want to share Eames with Robert Fischer.

"I guess so," he conceded.

"But you're not convinced," Eames said. A long moment passed. "Fair enough." Arthur was beginning to feel incredibly anxious. He rolled off the bed and made his way to his apartment's ensuite bathroom, knowing a shower would rid him of both the stale sex smell oozing from his pores and the negative feelings festering in the pit of his stomach.

After standing under the near-scalding stream of water for a few seconds, Arthur felt his troubles sliding off and slipping down the drain. He could stay in here for hours if hot water didn't cost so damn much. Idly soaping up his cock, his mind wandered back to Eames. They'd been fucking on the regular for a few weeks now, abusing virtually every surface in Arthur's pristine apartment, but the large walk-in shower had yet to be christened. He wondered why – surely it'd be a fantastic place to fuck; it was one of his favorite places to be. He also wondered if it could comfortably accommodate three people. His cock grew harder at the thought, and with the soap providing just the right amount of glide, Arthur closed his eyes and started jerking.

Mere minutes into the fantasy of having two Eames ravishing his body from both ends, Arthur sensed that he'd attracted an audience. Sure enough, upon turning around he came face-to-face with Eames, who was bracing himself against the glass shower door with one hand as the other was stroking his cock. Arthur's arousal increased tenfold and he shoved the door open, grabbing Eames' face with both hands and crashing their mouths together. The slick heat of their mouths, tongues entwined, matched and then surpassed the temperature of the water beating down on their bodies. Arthur sealed himself to Eames, who had forcefully pinned him against the tiled shower wall. A long, drawn-out moan escaped his lips as the other man's teeth nipped along his jaw and up to his ear, stubble leaving a stinging path in its wake.

"I need to fuck you here," Eames panted, thrusting his cock against Arthur's and setting off a fresh ripple of desire in both of them. Arthur couldn't do anything but nod his assent and retrieve the bottle of hair conditioner that often doubled as lube. He squeezed out a generous dollop, coating Eames' throbbing erection and using the rest to slick his asshole, resisting the urge to finger-fuck himself out of habit. He wrapped one leg around Eames' waist as the other was hooked over a chiseled arm, and he looked directly into the other man's blown pupils as he was being penetrated.

It took some careful maneuvering before they were able to maintain a steady pace in this position. Arthur clung to Eames' broad back as best he could, given the slippery conditions, and hoped that neither of them lost their grip. The sensation of being fucked against the shower wall, engulfed by wet heat and skin, was absolutely exquisite.

"Fuck! Fuck me harder!" Arthur demanded. He was glad to relinquish all control to Eames, who was more than willing to dominate. The Brit forced his cock deeper into his body, breath ragged and chest heaving with the effort of supporting Arthur's weight.

"You…you were thinking…about getting fucked…by me and someone else…weren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. Arthur gasped as Eames rammed into his prostate, nails digging into flesh.

"Yes!"

"Who was it?"

"You. Oh, fuck – two of you!"

Eames stopped and pulled back, looking Arthur right in the half-closed eyes. Arthur couldn't read his expression. "You're serious?"

"Yes," Arthur exhaled, readjusting his grip. "That's what I want."

The sound of water hitting skin was suddenly overwhelming. _Shit,_ Arthur thought, his eyes widening with fear. _He thinks I'm a fucking nutcase._ Eames leaned in closer, cock twitching within its tight confines.

"Then that's what you'll fucking get."

He caught Arthur's mouth in a violent kiss and resumed pounding him against the wall, balls slapping against his ass as he pushed his knees further and further back. Arthur kissed back earnestly, relieved that Eames hadn't been put off by his admission. He rutted against the other man's stomach, unable to release his grip on his shoulders and attend to his painfully hard cock.

"I'd suck your cock dry and fuck your face at the same time," Eames growled, and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of orgasm by the way his muscles clenched and his thrusts became shallower. "And then I'd fuck your ass so hard you'd scream with your mouth full."

"More," Arthur moaned.

Eames' lips grazed Arthur's ear as he continued, his voice low and jagged from panting. "You'd take it from both ends like a fucking slut, and…and we'd cum on your face, in your mouth…oh, fuck…fuck, Arthur, I'm coming!"

Arthur's body involuntarily clamped around Eames' cock as he gave one painfully deep thrust, and the hot spurts of cum that followed caused him to shudder in ecstasy. They stayed connected for a moment, allowing the final waves of bliss to course through them before Eames' arms gave out. Arthur felt himself being brought back to reality, feet touching the floor once more. His legs were aching from being forced beyond their usual range; they'd be covered in bruises tomorrow thanks to Eames' kung fu grip. The discomfort was abruptly erased when the Brit dropped to his knees and took the entire length of Arthur's cock in his mouth, then slowly pulled back and tongued the underside of the head.

Arthur let out a string of vocalizations as he let his head tilt back, knowing it wouldn't take much to coax his impending orgasm out of him. _They're both on their knees, one sucking my cock and the other on my balls, fighting over who gets what and when, and they both want my cum down their throats-_

That did it. A powerful paroxysm ripped through Arthur and he grabbed the back of Eames' head as he bucked cum into his waiting mouth. "Yes! Fuckin' right, take it!"

And take it Eames did – desperately, as if it were his last opportunity to do so. It was almost enough to bring along a second orgasm, but Arthur was spent in more ways than one. He watched Eames coax the last few drops of cum from his softening cock, all the while stroking his head and mumbling his approval. This was sublime. If a second Eames was thrown into the picture, it would be damn near perfect.

Eames ended things neatly by turning off the water and giving Arthur a taste of himself, which had become a fixture in their encounters. They dried off and dressed, Arthur admiring the Brit's flawless musculature from the corner of his eye. _Jesus Christ, he's beautiful. _His mind wandered back to the words he'd had hissed into his ear only minutes ago, words that had tattooed themselves on his mind:

_Then that's what you'll fucking get._

_When am I going to get what I want?_ He wondered, resisting the urge to actually ask Eames. Following that, an old adage crept its way into his thoughts: _Be careful what you wish for – you just might get it._ No sooner had he thought this than Eames was turning back to wink at him, smile revealing wonderfully crooked teeth, and Arthur knew he'd throw himself in front of a freight train if he could experience two Eames for just one night.

Arthur could not focus on anything. Three agonizing days had passed since Eames had promised to give in to his fantasy, and with each successive day Arthur's anxiety doubled. Print swam before his eyes; his paperwork was a migraine-inducing blur. A tremor ran through his hands when he tried to pick up his coffee mug. Unsurprisingly, the only thing that appeared to calm him down – albeit temporarily – was furiously masturbating whenever the urge struck him.

"This is ridiculous," Arthur thought out loud. He was in the middle of his second jerk session of the day, and it was only ten o'clock in the morning. Researching the next job was nigh on impossible; it required using the internet and the internet was full of distractions, namely porn. He briefly wondered what had happened to his self-control, his iron will, but the answer was obvious: Eames happened. _And that's why you don't fuck your co-workers,_ Arthur admonished himself. The thought sparked another convoluted fantasy of getting fucked by Eames on a job, and just as the throes of orgasm were about to hit him, he was brought back to reality by the kick, which was getting his cock sucked by the second Eames. In less than a minute Arthur literally had a mess on his hands (and stomach), and he was grateful for having been too distracted to bother putting clothes on this morning.

Eames knew how much agony he was causing Arthur by making him wait, and he loved every minute of it. He was generally not interested in delaying or withholding satisfaction, as was evidenced by his past sexual conquests, but Arthur presented an interesting challenge. Eames had never encountered anyone so stubborn and inflexible – mentally, that is – whose life was entirely centered on self-discipline. The conquest of Arthur's willpower was almost as satisfying as the conquest of his immaculate body. Eames wasn't completely sadistic, though, and he _did_ want to satisfy Arthur's desires; after all, a promise was a promise. It didn't hurt that he found the idea intensely arousing as well, and he'd spent the majority of the past three days formulating the perfect way to give them both what they wanted.

Arthur was still sitting stark naked in front of his computer, having gotten absolutely no work done all day (except on himself), when Eames' text lit up his phone hours later.

_Make sure you have the PASIV for 9 pm tomorrow._

His pulse immediately skyrocketed. "Took you long enough, asshole." He said it fondly, for he couldn't really be angry with Eames for any length of time. He stretched himself out as much as his chair would allow, smiling as the warm feeling in his chest spread throughout his body. The tension and anxiety that had been tormenting him for the past few days had flown the coop, leaving behind an enervated soul. A shower – only a quick one, as he'd need to save his energy for tomorrow – followed by sleep sounded like a splendid way to spend the rest of the evening.

It was 8:53. Endeavoring to keep himself occupied, Arthur had spent most of the day cleaning and making sure that everything was in place for the evening's activities. Since he'd finished around five, the remaining hours were passing by like stalled cars. He paced around his apartment impatiently, checking the clock for the umpteenth time – 8:54. The intercom let out its ear-splitting peal and Arthur raced to buzz Eames in. He stood by the door, waiting to hear knocking, practically dancing in place with excitement. When it hit, he flung the door open and was met with a remarkably well-dressed Eames. His cock instantly sprang to life.

"I know that's not a gun in your pocket, so you must be glad to see me," Eames said, eyeing Arthur's crotch. "Good thing, because I'm randy enough to shag the crack of dawn." He gave Arthur a sloppy kiss and grabbed his ass as he brushed past him, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair.

"Then let's get to it," Arthur grinned, locking the door and following Eames to the bedroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so eager to stick a needle in his arm.

Within minutes both men were falling into the depths of Eames' mind, landing in an expansive and pristine hotel room. Arthur felt blinded by the sheer whiteness of the walls, the carpet, the upholstery – it seemed nothing was out of place here.

"Have a good look around, darling," Eames said. "You'll be well-acquainted with every surface in this place by the end of the night." He winked at Arthur, knowing full well that his words had set off a rush of prickly heat in the other man's groin. Arthur couldn't help but smile as his eyes ran down the length of Eames' body, noting with satisfaction that he was decked out in a suit and not those dreadful rags he normally wore. He glanced down at himself and noted he was similarly dressed, albeit in a waistcoat rather than a suit jacket.

_Eames definitely has a fetish for waistcoats_, he mused. As he strolled around the living area, Arthur made it a point to test the feel and durability of every piece of furniture it contained. Nodding his approval, he made his way to the bathroom and was pleased to see that it contained both a walk-in shower and a Jacuzzi, both sure to see a great deal of use. He could feel his pulse quickening as he considered all the possibilities that the fixtures held. The last stop was the bedroom, which promised to be as spacious and white as the rest of the square footage – except for the darkly clothed figure sitting on the far side of the king-sized bed.

Just as Arthur was about to ask Eames who this person was supposed to be, he twisted around to face them. Arthur inhaled sharply as he took in the rugged beauty of what appeared to be Eames' clean-shaven twin. He had the same eyes, the same lips, and the same jawline, but seemed broader in the shoulders and less jovial in demeanor. As he stood up and approached, Arthur couldn't help but gape at his physique, which was impressive despite being concealed by a sweatshirt and track pants; his movements were staunch and purposeful.

"Tommy Conlon." His voice was low, its accent heavily Philadelphian. Arthur was so dazzled by his attraction to this man that he didn't realize he'd extended a hand in greeting.

"Arthur," he sputtered, extending his own hand and nearly jumping out of his skin when it was gripped firmly in return. He could've sworn there had been sparks when they touched. Arthur quickly glanced over at Eames, who seemed rather bemused by the exchange. "How did you…?"

"Don't worry about that, love; just take it for what it is. Enjoy the moment."

Arthur felt like a silly fangirl meeting a celebrity crush for the first time. He moved closer to Tommy, whose gaze swept over him in a way that made his hair stand on end. His scent was strong, masculine – not unlike Eames'. He didn't move a muscle as Arthur took hold of the zipper tab of his sweatshirt with a trembling hand and dragged it down, exposing a white wifebeater stretched taut over exquisite musculature. "Christ," Arthur breathed, moving closer to further unwrap his present. He slid the sweater off Tommy's shoulders and was pleased to see the familiar arrangement of tattoos over his chest and arms.

"He's a cage fighter, one of the best in the world." Eames was shedding his suit jacket and tie. Arthur was completely overwhelmed by his good fortune and the dizzying drain of blood from north to south. He realized that his cock was straining against the material of his pants, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Tommy remained stock-still, taking everything in, but his breathing had gotten audibly heavier.

"And the strong, silent type too," Arthur said, sliding his hands over the hills and valleys of Tommy's upper body. He had to see more. Just then, as if he'd read Arthur's mind, Tommy ripped the undershirt over his head and threw it aside before toying with the waistband of his pants. Eames was suddenly pressed up against Arthur, his lips on his neck and his cock prodding at his backside, hands deftly undoing his belt. Arthur let out a loud sigh, looking straight into Tommy's darkening eyes. Before he could drop his gaze to take in the rest of the other man's chiseled torso, their mouths were connected and Tommy's hands were unbuttoning and undoing with lust-induced roughness.

Arthur loved being accosted in this manner. His hands found their way to Tommy's taut stomach and followed the dark trail of hair down into his pants, straight to the mirror image of the throbbing cock being thrust against his ass. Eames slid Arthur's pants and boxers down over his hips, groaning obscenely into his ear before fumbling with his own clothes. Tommy freed Arthur of his waistcoat and shirt in record time, grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. Arthur needed no further instruction. He dragged the waistband of Tommy's track pants south, pleased to see that he'd foregone underwear and even more pleased when he had seven inches of uncut cock in front of him. Bracing himself against solid thighs, he tongued the trail of hair from origin to conclusion and noted the fine shiver this produced. The salty tang of Tommy's skin, combined with its familiar musk, was irresistible to Arthur. He had an urge to feel that impressive cock hit the back of his throat and see how the other man would react, and so he swallowed him completely in one go.

"Fuck," Tommy hissed, barely audible over his ragged breathing. Arthur was secretly glad to have brought about this exclamation and drew his head back, teasing foreskin for a moment before sliding back down. Eames, who was watching them with lecherous glee, suddenly wondered why he wasn't joining in the fun and if Arthur would really be able to handle two cocks at once. Then again, he was enjoying watching his double getting sucked off – it was the best kind of ego boost, and it was fucking hot to boot.

Tommy had moved a hand to the back of Arthur's head, the other awkwardly resting on his shoulder, and Eames could tell that he was trying his best not to ram his cock all the way down Arthur's throat. His reactions were almost endearing; despite his striking attractiveness, it was obvious that he was sexually inexperienced. _This may be the best projection I've ever dreamt,_ Eames thought.

Arthur shifted his attention from cock to balls, his right hand releasing its grip on Tommy's leg to tug at his own rigidity. Tommy's eyes were closed and he'd let his head tilt back slightly, his expression being one of complete and utter bliss. After continuing to watch for another minute or two, Eames could no longer stand being the third wheel.

"The bed wouldn't be as hard on your knees, darling." This was directed at Arthur, of course, but both men stopped what they were doing and fixed their gazes on Eames. Tommy gently extricated himself from Arthur's mouth before kicking his track pants off completely and stretching out on the bed. Arthur followed, crawling over him and catching his mouth in a searing kiss. He reached down and grasped Tommy's cock, still slick with saliva, stroking it firmly as his mouth wandered lower. Eames knelt on the bed behind Arthur, who didn't register his presence until he felt hands firmly running over his ass cheeks and up his flanks. He stopped his exploration of Tommy's collarbone to press his forehead into the damp body beneath him, releasing a deep groan as his back concaved with pleasure.

If there was one posture Eames couldn't resist, it was this. "Don't mind me, Arthur, just keep doing what you're doing." He rutted his leaking cock in the cleft of Arthur's ass, and Arthur reflexively backed into it as he resumed leaving a wet trail on Tommy's skin. Eames continued his segue, noticing how his double was trembling under Arthur's tongue and picking at the bedclothes in anticipation. It sent a bolt of prickly heat up his spine, leaving him vaguely light-headed and wanting to give Arthur a taste of his own medicine.

As Arthur drew the head of Tommy's cock into his mouth, Eames caught hold of Arthur's neglected erection. Eames was rewarded with a duet of gasps, which incited him to graze his lips along the ridge of Arthur's spine as his hand acquired a steady rhythm. He could feel Tommy watching his every move, and he loved it. He looked directly at his double as he flicked his tongue over the crack of Arthur's ass, feeling oddly satisfied by the degree of whiteness Tommy's eyes had managed to achieve and how he'd propped himself up with one arm, the other hand tangled in Arthur's hair.

Arthur groaned around Tommy's cock as Eames finally slid his tongue over puckered skin, down to balls and back up again. Every square inch of his groin was literally throbbing, dripping with pure wantonness. Eames had a habit of inciting this feeling in Arthur quite often, and he knew he did it well – but this time proved to be a spectacular outlier. A rush of drool spilled from Arthur's mouth, sluicing down Tommy's cock and pooling on his skin, and at that very moment Arthur knew he'd lost control of himself. It wasn't a bad thing.

The combined sensations of wet heat on his ass, a firm grip on his cock, and a hard dick in his mouth left Arthur feeling dizzy. His entire body was caught in a hiccup of pleasure – it was uncontrollable and overwhelming, yet distinctly enjoyable. Tommy gripped Arthur's head and bucked himself down his throat, breaths matching the tempo set by his hips. A particularly violent thrust engaged Arthur's gag reflex, bringing tears to his eyes and forcing him to suppress a dry heave. He glanced up at Tommy, who'd thrown his head back and was biting his lip the same way Eames did when he was on the verge of orgasm.

"Coming…I'm coming!" Tommy breathed, and the words barely registered with Arthur before his mouth was flooded with hot, bitter ejaculate. He felt the involuntary clenching of his pelvic muscles, signalling the onset of a splendid release, and as such braced himself against the hard body beneath him as he worked the last drops of semen from its spent cock. Eames, however, had other ideas – after giving Arthur one final lick, he pressed one thumb into his perineum and the other just under the head of his cock. The clenching halted, and Arthur spat out Tommy's cock before facing Eames.

"What the hell was that for?" He snapped, trying his best to appear angry despite a string of semen connecting his lower lip and chin.

"Just saving the best for last, love." Eames hauled Arthur upright on his knees, pressing his aching prick into the slick crack of the other man's ass and twisting his head around to lick off the offending fluid. Arthur let out a soft moan before enveloping Eames' mouth in a kiss, reaching back to grip the Brit's ass with both hands and force his cock further into its target.

The mattress shifted as Tommy rearranged himself into a kneeling position in front of Arthur, tentatively reaching to grab hold of his hips. Arthur broke away from Eames to regard his double, whose mouth was poised a few inches above his still-hard cock. Tommy unconsciously ran his tongue over his teeth as he stared up at Arthur in earnest.

"Can I…?"

Arthur nodded, pushing his hips toward Tommy and nearly slamming them into his face when he carefully took the head of Arthur's cock into his mouth. This was completely different than what Eames was capable of dishing out – Tommy's naivety shone through in his actions: the way he tested the surfaces of Arthur's cock with his tongue, his inability to take in more than a few inches at a time, and the way he kept looking up at Arthur for approval. It was all cut short by Eames, who had tired of waiting for his turn and was literally aching for release.

"All fours, facing me."

The hiss of his voice took a moment to register in Arthur's brain, but when it did he immediately did as he was told. Tommy's disappointment from the disappearance of cock was quickly replaced by the thrill of having a ready, willing, and beautifully shaped ass presented to him. He fluttered his hands over Arthur's backside, unsure if he should penetrate him with a finger or just cut to the chase and bury his cock to the hilt.

Eames had wasted no time shoving his neglected prick down Arthur's throat, grasping the other man's hair with one hand to keep his head still as he pistoned his hips into the receptive orifice. Arthur reached for his cock but Eames stopped him with a loud _No!_, followed by a softer _Not yet, love._ The exclamation had reached Tommy, who'd frozen just as he'd decided to ease a finger into Arthur. "Do it," Eames told him, unable to resist grinning at his reflective projection.

Arthur's moans amplified as Tommy eased a digit into him, carefully crooking it down and searching for the bundle of nerves that would cause him to see stars. Only when he added another finger did he find it, and Arthur clenched around him with enough force to fracture bones.

"Jesus Christ," Tommy muttered, relocating his free hand to his cock and giving it a few strokes. Arthur's body twitched with every successful hit, his torso sinking further into the bed and legs spreading wider. Eames struggled to keep himself from exploding into Arthur's mouth. He withdrew, cock glistening with saliva, and dropped to his knees to be face-to-face with the other man.

"What's wrong?" Arthur said, unable to control the spasms of pleasure that shot across his face as Tommy reamed his ass.

"Nothing," Eames replied. "Just buying time. I want to fuck you from both ends, fill you with cum, and I can't do that if I blow it all now."

"Fuck!" Arthur exhaled. "This is torture, Eames!"

Eames shut Arthur up by catching him in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. The flavor of his own cock filled his mouth as Arthur's tongue delved in, and the prickly heat it created in his groin was fantastic.

Tommy withdrew his fingers from Arthur's body and spat on them, dragging the slick digits from crack to cock. Arthur shivered, both tensing and relaxing his body to prepare himself for what he knew was coming next. Sure enough, Tommy let a string of saliva spill onto his dick before nudging Arthur's asshole with the head. He slid into him with breathtaking slowness, only exhaling when he'd disappeared completely. He ventured a minute movement and was audibly shocked at how strongly Arthur's body gripped his cock; it was like fucking a warm, wet vise.

Eames broke away from Arthur to watch him being penetrated at a new angle, by what was essentially a different cock, and his desire to have lips wrapped around his cock was overwhelming. "Harder," he told Tommy, whose expression changed from incredulity to determination as he arched his hips back and thrust them against Arthur with a satisfying smack. His hands grabbed hold of Arthur's flanks, slamming him back onto his cock with the kind of roughness you'd expect from a fighter.

"Nnngh!" Arthur's eyes screwed shut and he grimaced in both pleasure and pain. He dropped his face into the sheets, looking utterly helpless as Tommy ravished his ass. Determined to both distract him from the discomfort and satisfy his own need for release, Eames stood and hauled Arthur's head up by the hair before silencing his moans with his cock. Arthur latched onto it with renewed vigor, probing the slit with his tongue and gently grazing his teeth over the crown. Eames let his eyes roll back in his head as he sighed with bliss; his hands were still twined in Arthur's hair, allowing him some control over his movements.

With Tommy pounding away on one end and Eames on the other, Arthur was drowning in ecstasy. The sensory overload was very nearly suffocating – the slap of Tommy's balls against his own; the twitching of Eames' cock at the back of his throat; the smell of sex invading his nostrils – it was a heady mix indeed. He had yet to touch his own painfully hard erection, which was oozing precum at an alarming rate, and for a brief moment he wondered if he'd achieve a dry orgasm. The sudden sting of Tommy's nails digging into his ass cheeks brought Arthur back to the situation at hand.

"Hit me!"

The words were obfuscated by Eames' cock but Tommy knew what had been asked of him. His waning inhibition disappeared completely as he clapped a hand down on Arthur's ass, the resulting clench of muscle nearly bringing him to orgasm once again.

"Again!"

This came from Eames, who was only seconds away from coming himself. The slap was repeated on the same spot and tears welled in Arthur's eyes.

"Don't stop," Eames said, his voice high and breathy with the onset of ejaculation. Tommy obeyed; lower lip caught between his teeth as he reddened Arthur's skin and drove his cock deep into his ass. Eames' thrusts grew shallow and Arthur's heart pounded in anticipation when he heard his name slip from the Brit's mouth. Seconds later jets of molten cum scorched the back of his throat, followed by a similar sensation in his ass as Tommy came in violent jerks.

It was over far too soon – Eames pulled out of Arthur's mouth and dropped back onto the floor, chest heaving and skin glistening with exertion. He motioned for Tommy to do the same, and the emptiness Arthur suddenly felt was devastating. His disappointment evaporated when he realized that he had the rapt attention of two absolutely stunning men, both of whom were waiting to be covered in his cum. As Arthur shifted off the bed and stood before his audience, he felt still-hot semen trickling down his leg.

"I want you both fighting over it," Arthur said, fist flying over his cock. "About who gets it first, and…and who gets more of it." Both men sprang forward, jockeying for a position closest to Arthur as he let the long-awaited surge of orgasm flood his senses. Tommy expertly shoved Eames back and caught the first spurt on his tongue, but Eames was quick to recover and he happily took the bulk of it all over his face. The sheer satisfaction of seeing this had drawn Arthur's release out to a full fifteen or twenty seconds, and he literally felt drained by the time it was over. As the last few drops of semen were being lapped off the head of his cock, the two mouths crashed together and Eames was sucking cum off of Tommy's lower lip, prying his mouth open with his tongue and diving in headfirst. Arthur was stunned by what he was witnessing – blood rushed back into his cock within moments, leaving him dizzy. Eames was licking another man's cum off the face of his doppelganger, who was not only responding in kind but also reaching for his cock. Arthur wished the dream would never end.

As if on cue, the faint trill of music floated into the room and steadily grew louder as Arthur's breaths grew shallower. He was jerking himself frantically, trying to preserve the image of Eames and Tommy as an entanglement of tattooed flesh. His eyes closed with pleasure for a brief moment and when he opened them he was in his bed, staring at the white ceiling of his apartment.

"Damn it," he rasped.

"What's wrong?" Eames' voice made Arthur jump. He was fully awake, propped up on an elbow, and his eyes slid over Arthur's supine form in a purely licentious manner.

"I didn't want it to end," Arthur replied, noting the prominent bulge in Eames' pants. "I wanted more." He thought of the Jacuzzi, shower, and abundance of sturdy furniture that he hadn't gotten the chance to defile in the dream.

"All in good time, darling." Eames moved closer to Arthur, reaching out to draw him in for a quick kiss. "But for now, your wish is my command."

Arthur considered this for a moment. "Shower sex?"

Eames' expression turned impish. "I'll be sure to drop the soap."

fin


End file.
